William August Kobs

El Gallo (The Club) - Poem by William August Kobs

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Down a darkened alley you walk Past doors that do not talk, Behind each door is a different room Within each room is a tic or a boom. The beat of a different drummer, Or the riff of a guitar strummer, Or the sound of a hot, jazzy lick From a trumpet all shiny and slick.

The tables and chairs are aligned In a scheme to minimize the time It takes you to reach the stage And get worked up into a rage. As the band begins to play The crowd begins to sway, And when the sax begins to blow The crowd shouts, Go Daddy Go!

All at once the room seems to spin, Magic crystals make colors that blend Into patterns that bounce off the wall, With images that lead you down a hall. To a place where incense fills the air And people with piercing, green hair Lurk in the shadows or lounge on rugs, While doing the latest designer drugs.

And the neon lights that burn From every club as you turn The corner onto the street Not knowing who you will meet, Keep flashing well after dawn Like the eyes of some unknown spawn, Which chases you into the park As you seek to escape the dark.

Then you stop to catch your breath, Feeling as if you've cheated death, And the apprehension fills you with dread As rhythms keep playing inside your head. Suddenly you find yourself back in line In front of a door on which hangs a sign. Abruptly the door open and inside your whisked, Never noticing the words, Enter At Your Own Risk!